


Soaking in the Sunlight With You

by CharWright5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot of sun and heat metaphors for which I'm only a little sorry, Confessions, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Pining, Post-Time Skip, waking up together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26516689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: Shoyo pulled back just enough to lift his head, to peer up at Atsumu, and Atsumu forced himself to open his eyes, to put on a smile and act like he wasn’t being ripped apart by what he had but didn’t have. His hand lifted and calloused fingers singed Atsumu’s fragile cheeks as they just barely brushed against him, movements light and experimental more than anything and it hurt how bad he wanted more than this, these fleeting touches and lingering glances that allowed him to think there was more to it than really was.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 153
Collections: AtsuHina Exchange, stories that touched me





	Soaking in the Sunlight With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caniculeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caniculeo/gifts).



> Picked and chose from a list of prompts: sunlight, warmth, pining, confessions.
> 
> Title from _Beautiful Morning With You_ by the Pillows

The sun shining through the window woke Atsumu up to a sight that was becoming all too common those days. His apartment was conveniently located a few blocks from the gym where the Black Jackals practiced and from the gym where they worked out and trained, which was great for workaholics like him who had a habit of staying late to get in a few more serves, a few more sets, a few more spikes.

It also meant that his equally workaholic teammate who stayed behind with him often crashed at Atsumu’s place, too tired to head back to his own apartment.

Not that Atsumu minded. Not when he was able to wake up and catch a glimpse of what he was fairly certain was heaven laying next to him in bed.

Sunlight cast a golden glow through the window, bathing them both in warmth and illuminating the ethereal being beside him. Hinata Shoyo’s copper hair was like fire as the light peeked through the edges, his skin a warm tan from years of beach volleyball and from developing a preference for outside jogs rather than any treadmill. The sun painted Atsumu’s white sheets yellow and the blond wondered if maybe the giant star wasn’t outside but rather in the bed.

Kinda made him Icarus, he thought, fingers hovering in the air, trembling as they reached forth towards burnt orange hair that he dreamt felt as soft as it looked. He didn’t touch though, too afraid of Shoyo waking, too afraid of being caught, of being found out.

Not that others weren’t aware, not that they hadn’t given him pitiful glances when he was caught staring at Shoyo with too much longing. Bokuto had taken him out for drinks one night under the guise of hanging out as teammates, but instead turning it into a commiseration party for two, discussing in detail his own pining and longing for his former high school teammate and his regrets over waiting too long to say anything, how it was so much better to actually say something.

The words always got caught in Atsumu’s throat.

Because Shoyo was the sun and Atsumu was a greedy son of a bitch who wanted to selfishly hoard him away. Too many years spent sharing: a room, his toys, his name, his team. He wanted something for himself. His brother already had that with his own partner, his new restaurant, forging his own path separate from Atsumu for the first time.

Atsumu couldn’t do that. He couldn’t hide his love away from the world, not when he was so bright and brought so much life to it. People were drawn to him naturally, rivals turned into friends. His mom would describe Shoyo as the type of person who didn’t know a stranger, grinning wide in a way that invited people in, that spread warmth to even the coldest and darkest places.

Places like Atsumu’s heart, his asshole tendencies and cutting remarks and too sharp personality. “ _Screw you, foul-mouthed shit pig_.” “ _Personality of sewage water_.” “ _’Tsumu, everyone hates you_.” Atsumu genuinely didn’t care about that shit when he was younger, especially considering how most of it had come from his brother. But now…

Okay, now, he still didn’t care what most people thought of him. For the most part anyway. He secretly cared about rankings and shit like that, but that was more on a professional level. When it came to personal stuff, he typically wasn’t bothered by anyone not liking him, by anyone being offended by him.

Except, of course, for Shoyo. Atsumu cared a little _too_ much about what Shoyo thought of him. He purposely went out of his way to tell jokes to make him laugh--even when Shoyo was the only one. He purposely acted overdramatic and whiny to get Shoyo’s attention and sympathy. He purposely clung onto the younger man to bond with him and spend more time with him and get to know him better, unleashing a possessiveness that he had no right to.

God, he’d nearly gotten into a fist fight with Kageyama in the hall of the stadium, knowing the two had some sort of ambiguous history that Atsumu refused to look closer at out of fear he’d go track the guy down and give in to that dark desire being whispered in his ear by a certain green-eyed monster.

So instead, he focused on the current moment, on how whatever had been with Kageyama was now over, on how Shoyo was currently in Atsumu’s bed, snuffling adorably, nose crinkling. 

He deserved to be bathed in sunlight like this. He deserved to be elevated to a higher status, vaunted and adored by the masses, worshipped like Apollo. Bright, powerful, bringing life to all he touched and light to all dark places.

Atsumu’s trembling fingers made contact with fiery hair and it was oh so soft and he was such a bastard, sneaking touches like this, no matter how tame. He could practically hear his brother chastising him in his head, calling him a creep and then the Radiohead song of the same name started playing in his head.

Shoyo’s eyelids fluttered, long lashes dancing as he stirred awake, and Atsumu quickly drew his hand back, clutched at the sheet over them both as though it hadn’t moved, as though he hadn’t crossed a line. A muffled groan as Shoyo buried his face in his pillow while stretching, legs brushing Atsumu’s in his bed that really had no business holding two people. Atsumu himself held perfectly still, even as his heart pounded wildly in his chest, waiting to be slain by what was coming next.

Because Shoyo had beautiful amber eyes that looked like pools of whisky as the sun hit them and Atsumu wasn’t much of a drinking man, but by god did he wanna drown in those. They blinked at him as Shoyo’s mind caught up to consciousness, before a smile spread across his face that made everything on him seem to twinkle and everything in Atsumu spark and die. The man was beautiful and that wasn’t typically an adjective he’d use for other men but it was apt here, necessary here. He exuded more warmth in that single look than the actual sun in the sky and Atsumu wanted to be burned beneath it.

“Mornin’, ‘Tsum-san,” Shoyo drawled sleepily, voice cracking, before he yawned so big Atsumu could hear his jaw crack.

“Mornin’ Shoyo,” he absently murmured in response, his own voice craggly and weak.

Shoyo blinked, still sleepy, then shuffled forward, shuffled closer… until his arms were around Atsumu and his head was buried in Atsumu’s chest…

Atsumu stopped breathing. His heart was pounding but his lungs were frozen and surely Shoyo could hear, could tell, as his shaky arms wrapped around this small yet sturdy body pressing against him. He could feel the soft cotton of a well-worn tee that actually belonged to Atsumu, his old high school logo on the back, the graphic cracked from countless washes and wears. Shoyo had clothes stashed here, a couple pairs of underwear and a few shirts and some shorts, a drawer cleared out for him to stash it all, but he always wound up in Atsumu’s clothes, Atsumu’s sweats and t-shirts and hoodies when it was cold.

Not that Atsumu minded, that possessive part of him internally screaming in joy over how Shoyo looked even smaller in Atsumu’s larger sized items and when the blond wore them himself, they carried that unique scent that belonged solely to Shoyo.

Tilting his head down, he buried his face in that soft, soft hair, inhaling that very scent along with his own shampoo. Because Shoyo had not only invited himself over like it was a guaranteed thing, but he’d also hopped in the shower like it was his own, leaving his dirty clothes strewn about as though he was home and, god, Atsumu wished he was, wished this was permanent and in the way he so longed it to be.

“I like waking up here,” Shoyo murmured against Atsumu’s cotton covered chest and he had to shut his eyes tight to hold back the pain of those words as they devastated him entirely.

“I like ya wakin’ up here, too,” he confessed because he couldn’t not and Shoyo was burning in his arms, so warm, so untouchable, and Atsumu’s wings were melting as he foolishly believed he could deserve this, could be allowed this.

Shoyo pulled back just enough to lift his head, to peer up at Atsumu, and Atsumu forced himself to open his eyes, to put on a smile and act like he wasn’t being ripped apart by what he had but didn’t have. His hand lifted and calloused fingers singed Atsumu’s fragile cheeks as they just barely brushed against him, movements light and experimental more than anything and it hurt how bad he wanted more than this, these fleeting touches and lingering glances that allowed him to think there was more to it than really was.

“I think,” Shoyo began, so quiet and soft that Atsumu wasn’t sure the words were even meant for him, despite being the only other person in the entire apartment. “Maybe Bokuto-san was right.”

A frown formed on Atsumu’s face, confused, clueless.

Then Shoyo was moving, shifting, moving up the bed to… to kiss Atsumu, softly, featherlight like his previous touch yet Atsumu still felt the spark of a fire being kindled, everything in him warm and alight. His breathing was shaky as he took in a suddenly bashful Shoyo, Shoyo who was always so determined and decided and certain of everything he ever did both on and off the court.

“I’m in love with you,” Atsumu breathed and Shoyo’s response was to beam brighter than ever, grin overtaking his face before his hands, those hot calloused hands, cupped Atsumu’s cheeks and pulled him in for a better, more assured kiss.

Atsumu was Icarus and he was flying too close to the sun but as Shoyo withdrew enough to whisper “I love you, too” against his lips, he understood why one would be so willing to let their wings melt. Because it meant, for one beautiful overwhelming moment, they were able to touch greatness.


End file.
